Hours pass and the blue sun is barely peeking up out of the horizon in Chassa. The Chassan Headquarters is lit up, being the tallest building in the central area, and citizens are on their way to their duties, whether that be smithing runes, being a secretary to the Council, or guarding the city in nearly impenetrable armor. Winged creatures fly about the sky, delivering packages and letters that are sensitive or otherwise cannot be transferred technologically. Storefronts are opening, some selling necessities and others offering items for entertainment or enjoyment. It is morning in Chassa, and most have risen to start their days.

This is true for the Head Reaver and his Controller, the two of them set up inside the Chassan HQ in two separate rooms, both linked up to each other with physical connections. In Caspian, a socket underneath hair on the side of his head allows a plug-in device to access his mind. On the other side, across a glass window, a clamp-like brace is placed over Alain’s head by a technician working under the Council. She appears exhausted, not having slept much the night before except for a long period of unconsciousness, which didn’t feel much like true sleep to her. Caspian doesn’t look much better, having been up most of the night overseeing her.

“Connection established,” the technician announces, probably to an unseen project overseer for the Reavers. “Identifying anomalies.” Seconds after the latter phrase is spoken, the two of them feel tingling in their heads, like something is scratching at their brains. This scratching continues as they are made to remember experiences that they may not have wanted to see again, mostly Alain. Multiple devices in the chair keep her arms or legs from moving much at all, like she is paralyzed, but her face doesn’t allow her the ability to hide her feelings. She appears as if on an elevated high for most of the process, her head limp, eyes rolled back. This is until she is made to withstand her nightmares again, which make the woman drift between freezing in horror, screaming in terror, and begging for the technician to stop doing this to her.

On the other side of the wall, where Cas sits, he knows not to get up or try to help Alain. All he can do is allow the project overseer to sift through his memories to decide what must be done about the nightmares they have been having. His eyes remain on her, appearing glazed over as this isn’t the first time he’s been prodded and poked by something inspecting his mind. An emotionless stare watches his Controller, who cries out to him for help or any aid he can provide. He is unable to do anything, however, stuck to the chair with a dulled mind watching his memories like some overplayed movie.

Once the process is finished, which takes upwards of twenty minutes to half an hour, Caspian is the first to convene with the Council. He staggers up, having just gotten up from the half hour daze he was just in, and moves to place a hand against the being that is the Council. Time slows to a stop, him included, and the unimaginable number of voices speak as one to the Head Reaver. “The mission has yet to start. Why are their complications?” The Council most definitely already knows this answer, but is more interested in what Cas has to say.

“We have had to sort out some feelings left alone for so long. That, and the Abyss is already toying with us. It isn’t like what I originally thought.”

“What do you see this Abyss to be?”

“It is a living thing in and of itself. I can’t sense any one specific mind within it, so I must believe it is some collection. There are things, people or creatures, in it that none of our worlds have ever witnessed before, but there is no pattern. This world is still in development, so it wants me to enter quicker so that I can influence its creation, maybe aid it.”

“Do you plan to aid in the final development of the Abyss?”

“No, Council. I aim to do as you see necessary upon proper data collection.”

“Excellent. You are to personally see to your Controller’s health and not allow her out of your sight.”

“She is still going to be my Controller for the mission, Council?” This is a shock to Caspian, seeing as Alain doesn’t quite seem fit for it.

“Alain Freija is being called out to as well. The Abyss will see to it she is brought in one way or another, and this provides a data collection opportunity Chassa has not had before.”

“She is being used to gather information despite being mentally ill because of it?”

“Your Controller has already been affected by the Abyss. Properly trained Controllers compatible with you do not exist, and you will not enter the Abyss without a humanoid mind tethered to you.”

The Council’s words infuriate Cas, which is completely abnormal for him. “She needs help, Council, and allowing her to continue with the mission will just create more problems.”

“In this instance, you are a tool for data collection, Caspian Hayalci.” A simple statement, designed to rope Chassan citizens back to their duties.

“Yes, I am, Council.”

“You are not a consultant for Controller health, albeit your apparent attraction to Alain Freija. Your Controller will accompany you and you will not allow her out of your sight from the moment you are done convening until you see her to the Controller quarters in two days’ time.” The Council does not bother with asking for understanding or acknowledgement, as those who convene with it already share this information unwillingly. The Council already knows Caspian will listen because his mind betrays him against the masses of other minds he speaks to. “Additionally, you will relinquish possession of the gatekey until allowed it again.”

“Yes, Council, I will do as you tell me.”

“Your service to Chassa is a great deed, Caspian Hayalci, Head Reaver.” With that, the Council releases Caspian, who is asked to step back while his Controller convenes with the Council, still shaken up from the process. He does as ordered by the Council, watching the convening for the few seconds it takes.

After Alain is done, she is helped up by one of the many secretaries and is brought over to Caspian. “All yours, Head Reaver,” the man says, letting her go.

Cas takes her hand, noticing she is looking down, eyes closed. With one of the many abilities he has been given, mainly due to this being a Reaver duty to keep her in his sight at all times, he blinks them directly to his home where he can keep a close eye on her.

Rather quickly, Alain realizes the change in location and looks up to make eye contact with him. She looks devastated, ruined... she has gone through hell not once or twice, but many times now and it shows on her face. She opens her mouth, about to say something.

Caspian hushes her, saying, “Sit down in here or lie down in the bedroom. I will bring you everything you need and you will rest.” His words are strict, mostly because if he doesn’t follow the Council’s every letter, he could risk serious harm to Alain. When the Council orders something, it is for good reason, and right now it may be because she is so broken down. Few would be able to withstand such painful memories over and over again, and she doesn’t have a solid record of having stable emotions in the first place. “Go, Allie.”

Reluctantly, Alain obeys, moving to sit down on the couch. She takes a blanket on the way over from a rack, curling up in it as she waits. She watches the table, her thoughts mulling and falling over each other, no specific one keeping her attention for longer than a second or two. She thinks about what she was told by the Council, remembering it ordering her to remain in Caspian’s care. I’m officially a burden to him again. A weight holding him down from doing the best he can. Should she tell him these feelings? Is that something they should do now? Ultimately, Alain decides not to, remaining silent as she begins to pick at her own fingernails subconsciously.

Caspian wills the light tablet to him, providing that for Alain for entertainment while he gets together some breakfast for them. He spends the first hour being back making her favorite meal, which is something like an egg and bread dish with various spices, like cinnamon and saffron. In Chassa, life is not harvested until they succumb to the elements, which is a common practice by all residents of the world. Not even people are killed by other people, even if they go rogue against the Council. Those convicted of unforgivable acts, like killing another, are forfeited to the Below as a sort of sacrifice. From there, Chassan residents don’t know what happens to who was sacrificed. Only the Below knows, and they don’t often share secrets.

Due to this culture, Chassa used to have to import supplies daily in secret. On Bea, there was a heavily guarded transportation line to a “far off land” that “led” to Chassa. In reality, there were workers who would take the supplies out of sight of the entrance to the line and move them directly and safely into Chassa. Nowadays, however, it is much easier to bring in imports with Chassa being relatively known to all other worlds. Some who are native to other worlds are even allowed to transport goods in on an escorted status, though the process is quite extensive for first time merchants.

Time goes on, and Caspian steps out from behind the kitchen bar with the platter they will share from. He puts it down on the coffee table with some plates and silverware, then looks to her, seeing she hasn’t touched the light tablet and is still just staring down at herself. When spoken to by name, however, she lifts her head. “Hm?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Oh... yes. Here,” she says, pushing her legs off the couch so she may sit up. The blanket shifts, and a spot is open for Cas to sit down on. The two enjoy breakfast, neither one of them speaking to each other. Alain eats slowly and neatly, seemingly not wanting to bring attention to herself. Caspain sends occasional glances directly at her and keeps the Elf in his peripheral vision the whole time. Without saying anything at all, the two are well aware of the atmosphere in the air this grim morning.